


Shed Scales

by ToraOkami303



Series: Raised by Predacons AU [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, More Characters and Ships TBA as more Oneshots are added, Multi, Some Ableism mentioned in Chpt 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToraOkami303/pseuds/ToraOkami303
Summary: Ficlets and Snippets of my Raised by Predacon AU that otherwise won’t fit into the overall narrative I have planned.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl (Transformers), Tigertrack/Perceptor (Transformers)
Series: Raised by Predacons AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988638
Comments: 72
Kudos: 11





	1. Prowl Arrives in Petrex

**Author's Note:**

> I had sudden inspiration for Youngling! Prowl and Youngling! Red Alert but I actually never planned to write Prowl’s younglinghood for the main fic, so here we are.
> 
> Beta Reader: PastelAgender

Prowl presses into his Carrier’s side, whimpering softly. Everything is so loud, he doesn’t like the loudness. He wants to go back to the quiet cave they were camping in, but Carrier says that younglings should have friends. So they are moving into this loud scary town, he doesn’t want to move into the town. The mean medics are yelling at his Carrier, saying all kinds of nasty things. He thinks they are talking about him but they are using the words Carrier says are rude not his name. He just wants to go back to the nice quiet cave, his helm hurts and is full of static as his processors build up too much data with nothing to solve.

“Hey shut the frag up and leave the femme alone!” Cries a sudden voice over all the mean medics, who quickly shut up giving the mech that shoulders his way out of the crowd that’s formed sour looks. He is mostly bright yellow, with a black helm and white thighs. He glares at the medics, a huge nitrotiger slinking out of the crowd to stand at his side.

“Go spew your quackery somewhere else.” The yellow mech snarls taking another menacing step towards the medics, the nitrotiger at his side lifting its helm opticing the medics.

They immediately turn tail and flee, clearly not willing to challenge the mech and his… pet? Prowl stares at the nitrotiger puzzled, he’s never seen one as a pet before. His helm ache slowly dissolves as his hyperactive processors finally have one thing to hyperfocus on. He uses all his limited knowledge to try and work out why this nitrotiger is hanging out very tame at the side of this strange, loud mech.

“Sorry about them. Percy and I have tried to run ‘em out but those empty helmed council mechs like getting their egos stroked too much to let it stick.” The stranger huffs moving towards them, he offers a servo to Carrier. “I’m Tigertrack. This is my nitrotiger Stripes, he’s a sweetspark really.”

Carrier takes Tigertrack’s servo, shaking it firmly. Prowl watches with rapt attention, Carrier says you can tell a lot about a mech by how they respond to a firm servo shake. This mech seems to pass his Carrier’s test, he does not make a sour face.

“I am Beacon. This is my son Prowl. We are moving in. I hope those are not the only medics in town.” She says petting Prowl’s helm gently, Prowl tilts his helm into the action enjoying the soothing gesture. He loves helm pats.

“Nah, there’s a couple good ones that technically don’t live  _ in _ town but they cycle through often enough. Percy has a lot of emergency medical training if we need anything on the rare moments it’s just the quacks in town. His Amica’s Junx is a medic so he got more emergency training than most Knights.” Tigertrack says smiling at them, offering Prowl his servo to shake as well but he just shrinks into his Carrier’s side.

“I will have to ask them for their schedules. We do not have our meeting with the council of this town until tomorrow, the flimsy they gave me says we are assigned temp house Delta Six, do you know where that is located?” She asks shifting to lift Prowl up into her arms, her engine rumbling soothingly.

“Oh yeah that’s not far from where they got us. I’ll walk ya, You part of a Knight Sect already?” He pivots gesturing for the femme to follow him. He leads the way towards the outskirts of town, Stripes pads beside him silently.

Prowl peers around from his new perch on his Carrier’s chassis, everyone is making sour faces at the four of them. He chirps little phrases in Praxian at his Carrier about the mean mecha. She rubs his back soothingly, rumbling her engine for him to focus on.

“I am a member of the Praxian Hunters, Unfortunately the Praxian council vetoed my Chief’s orders to allow me to remain in Praxus so we moved here. I will get missions from the council here if all goes well, otherwise I will look to Polyhex.” Carrier responds to the questions. Prowl gives a tiny little growl at the mention of the council, they were mean. They said lots of nasty things, he does not like them.

“Hunters huh? They only take special sparks right?” Tigertrack asks glancing over his shoulder at the carrier and son pair.

Before Beacon can reply there’s a screech and a little red and white blur attacks Tigertrack’s legs. He stumbles but quickly catches himself and scoops up the wailing ball of youngling, murmuring soft soothing words. A midsize red mech with a scope on his shoulder rushing up shortly after the youngling.

“Red… shhh it’s okay… it’s okay. Your sa is just fine.” He croons stroking the helm of the red and white youngling in Tigertrack’s arms. A helm adorned with little horns that are sparking fitfully as the youngling wails. After a short while the youngling seems to steadily calm down, the sparks dying down.

Prowl huddles close to his Carrier chirping in confusion at the scene. She rumbles her engine soothingly nuzzling the youngling gently. She catches the optic of the red mech who turns his helm to examine her critically, Tigertrack lifts his helm from the youngling to follow the other mech’s gaze.

“Oh sss… silver. Sorry Beacon, this is my partner Perceptor and our youngling Red Alert.” He nods to the red mech then pats the back of the youngling in his arms.

“Percy, Red, this is Beacon and her son Prowl. They just arrived, council’s got ‘em over in Delta Six. I was just shown ‘em where it was. Actually… Huh Prowl’s probably gotta be about your age Red, don’t you wanna say hi?” Tiger nuzzles the youngling gently trying to nudge him to look to Prowl. Red buzzes unhappily pressing his helm down against his sire’s chassis, listening to his spark.

Perceptor relaxes a little when his mate introduces the femme and explains her presence.

“A pleasure to meet you. Pardon our interruption, Red was worried when his Sire was late getting back. We were just walking over to see what was going on.” He comments turning his attention back to the youngling that’s magnetized himself to his Sa and refuses to move or let go for anything.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Sorry for holding up your partner, the council just left us to our own devices after sicing the attack cyber-dogs on us.” Beacon presses a kiss to Prowl’s helm as he climbs up higher on her chassis to rest his helm on her shoulder, chirping softly in Praxian about the other youngling.

“Ah yes their little pet medics, who likely would be expelled if they tried half the things they do here in Iacon.” Percy mutters glaring off into the distance over his mate’s shoulder. Tiger pats his mate’s shoulder sighing.

“Ain’t nothing we can do about it hun. Ratch’s too busy to come here, we’ll just have to keep reporting what we have evidence of and hope one of the Prime’s advisors does something about it.” He nuzzles the red mech before shifting away so they can keep walking.

“We’ll drop you guys off at the right house, then we should get Red settled down so he can fuel and recharge.” He says gesturing the way they need to go before he starts walking. Perceptor moves to walk ahead, seeming on guard for… something. Stripes continues to amble at Tigertrack’s side and Red Alert seems unwilling to lift his helm, even a micron.

Beacon nods following along holding Prowl close while he starts to drift half off into recharge himself.


	2. Jazz and Steel meet Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its a [late] Christmas Miracle!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing Prowl’s Carrier I felt sad she’s not around to meet Jazz so have some Ghost of Christmas Past shenanigans to let them meet!
> 
> {{ text }} is for Praxian words, imagine something like crystals singing and that’s what it sounds like.
> 
> Beta Reader: PastelAgender

Jazz leads the way towards the cave, holding Prowl’s servo as they walk. Smokescreen, Bluestreak and Springer are having a sleep over at Ratchet’s house for a few orns. So Jazz and Prowl have come back down to the Petrex area to see how the new council is doing and visit Steel. Jazz hums softly as he gently swings his and Prowl’s joined servos. 

Prowl gives him an amused look, he trills softly at Jazz shifting to nuzzle him. He looks up above the cave entrance as they arrive, Steel had expanded it but it was the same cave his Carrier had them camped out in for a few megaorns while she taught Prowl to speak common. Steel had carved some crystals into a little dedication to the other femme she had never met.

Jazz gently tugs Prowl’s servo to continue walking, squeezing it in gentle reassurance. As they round a corner into the main room of the cave Jazz freezes, staring at a stranger standing in the middle of the cave. Prowl’s vents hitch when he catches sight of the stranger, a femme Praxian with a dark green and white color scheme and a striking red chevron.

“Carrier?” Prowl whispers, tears filling his optics at the sight of the femme.

“Hello my little {{Pantera}}…” She croons moving closer, as she shifts past the lights Jazz realizes she’s somewhat transparent.

Prowl lets go of Jazz’s servo darting forward to hug the femme tightly, breaking down into sobs.

Jazz hesitates, literally seeing Prowl’s back through the femme’s arms but slowly he moves towards the two. The Carrier and son sink to kneel on the ground, still clinging to each other. Prowl has dipped emotionally into his native Praxian, Jazz thankfully has learned enough of the language to catch the gist of what Prowl is saying.

“It is okay my little bitty… It is okay… I am here. I love you so much. You have done so much, I am so proud of you.” The femme croons hugging Prowl as tight as she seems capable of in this… whatever this form is. Prowler said his Carrier died 12vorns ago, so a ghost? Why would her ghost come around  _ now _ of all times?

“{{Jazz… my Carrier… so happy…}}” Prowl babbles in Praxian half unintelligibly reaching for Jazz who moves closer taking his mate’s servo, giving the femme one of his winning smiles but silently planning how to take out a ghost if he needs to. He kneels next to the pair holding one of Prowl’s servos.

“Nice ta meet ya, Yer Beacon? Prowler talks about ya a lot.” Jazz asks curiously, squeezing Prowl’s servo.

“I am… you must be Jazz. You bring my bitty so much happiness, thank you.” Beacon smiles at Jazz hugging Prowl close while he slowly calms back down. Jazz blushes a little at the compliment, looking away. 

Eventually Prowl reluctantly lets go of his Carrier and leans back, pressing into Jazz’s side. Jazz lets go of Prowl’s servo briefly to wrap his arm around him taking his servo again once he has his arm around Prowl.

“I’m so sorry carrier… I-I couldn’t get them to give me custody of Smokey and Blues for so long… I should ha- I should have tried harder'' Prowl murmurs rushing his words together, more tears slowly dripping down his faceplates.

“Hush… You did everything you could think of. You tried your hardest, and you never gave up. That was the most I could ask of you, to try your best. Everything worked out in the end did it not? There are so many things I would have done differently… That Perceptor and Tigertrack would have done differently… If we had only known how insane Mesothulas would become when you lost half your support network. We should have kept better contact with our friends in other towns…” Beacon murmurs reaching forward to brush Prowl’s tears away, her doorwings bopping and drooping down sadly.

“But we should not get caught up in what ifs and if onlys… You have a sparkling now! Tell me more about him.” She grins gives a wide grin, suddenly Jazz can see a lot more Bluestreak in her. 

“I do, his designation is Springer. He is a delight, he loves to play with Bluestreak and the Twins, chasing them all over the apartment. He is growing so fast! He is already 6 feet tall, and he is only 2 vorns old.” Prowl chuckles softly leaning heavily against Jazz. His engine slowly starts to purr as he thinks about his little one.

“That’s just what Predacons are like. We start out just as big as a vehicle sparklin’ but grow much faster.” Jazz presses a kiss to Prowl’s helm, his own engine starting to purr in response to Prowl’s.

“He sounds wonderful, does Smokey get along well with him?” Beacon questions, frowning worriedly when Smokey is not included in the play group.

“Smokey is… getting better at playing with Springer. He was very jealous at first, and angry with me. He did not believe I tried hard enough. Rung has been a Primus send in that regard, he has been speaking with both Smokescreen and Bluestreak. Helping them sort out their feelings.” Prowl’s doorwings droop a little remembering how upset Smokescreen had been with him.

“I certainly hope  _ you _ have been speaking with this Rung as well. You deserve help too my little {{Pantera}}…” Beacon rumbles her own engine, somewhere between a comforting purr and a threatening growl.

“Yes I have… Ratchet was insistent. Red Alert has also been working with him. It has been good…” Prowl’s optics dim as he settles in to talk with his Carrier for a while. The three of them stay like that for several joors, talking and catching up.

\---

Later once Jazz and Prowl have turned in for the night Beacon wanders to where Steel is quietly watching from the shadows. She looks up at the predacon femme with a soft mischeivous smile.

“Do you not trust me with your bitty?” Beacon asks playfully.

“Nah… well maybe a little. Just wanted ta listen a bit. Prowl really does talk ‘bout ya alot. Wondered if ya were half da mecha Prowl remembers.” Steel chuckles leading the ghostly femme towards her own nest sprawling out in the meshes.

“And what is your verdict?” Beacon questions floating up to rest on Steel’s left servo.

“Ya ain’t half bad. Prowl says ya were a great hunta… ‘N’ lookin’ at ya I think I recall rumors about ya. What da frag happened on that fateful fight?” Steel tilts her helm curiously, visor focused on the smaller femme.

“Let us just say it was not a fair fight. It, in fact, seemed to be stacked against us. I have my suspicions.” Beacon’s engine growls with frustration.

Steel rumbles her own engine irritably.

“I think I get what ya are puttin’ down.” She grumbles sighing and laying her helm down, her visor dimming down.

“Rest. I will be around for a few orns. We can embarrass our bitlets together tomorrow.” Beacon giggles moving off Steel’s servo to explore the cave while the femme predacon recharges.

Steel chuckles a little letting her visor shutter close, relaxing as she settles in to recharge.


	3. Prowl meets Red Alert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the first oneshot but Prowl and Red had other ideas. So now it’s the third.
> 
> * _text_ * is for Universal Basic, which is what Bumblebee speaks in Prime.
> 
> Content Warning: Some unpleasant ableist language and opinions from nameless-faceless background characters. Some of it kids parroting what their families taught them.
> 
> Beta Reader: PastelAgender

Prowl glances back to his Carrier nervously, he does not understand the point of this event. He does not know any of these mecha, he does not  _ want _ to know these mecha. His Carrier however gestures her servo for him to continue forward and join in the play group. He frowns at her but reluctantly continues towards the group.

Several of the other younglings are watching him, they have a mean look in their optics. Prowl lifts his small doorwings into an aggressive ‘V’ hoping to scare off the mean looks. Several of the Praxian younglings return the aggressive ‘V’ gesture with their own doorwings, the non-Praxians do not seem to gather what the meaning of the action is at first.

“*  _ Your paint is ugly _ *” One of the braver younglings taunts, beeping in Universal Basic at the other youngling.

Prowl huffs his paint briefly shifting through a few color combinations before he snaps back.

“At least paint can be fixed. Nothing to do about your faceplates.” He quips in slightly accented neocybex.

The other younglings flair their armor first in anger then they glare at the nearly monochrome youngling.

“At least we can speak Neocybex right!” One of the Praxians shouts, rattling his wings in challenge.

Prowl huffs, keeping his armor and wings unchanged. By all accounts he looks entirely unaffected by their latest attack.

“And how long did that take you?” He questions tilting his helm, his Carrier said he picked up languages much more quickly than other younglings. He was willing to bet within a reasonable probability that they had only been speaking ‘right’ for a few megaorns at most.

“Always! We knew it right the whole time unlike you!” The youngling insists rattling his wings harder trying to provoke Prowl.

Prowl keeps his doorwings still, not rising to the challenge. He listens carefully to the way the other youngling speaks then comments.

“{{ Did you ever learn your frame-kin’s language though? }}” From the confused look he gets from that youngling and several other younglings, both praxian and not, exchanging unsure looks he gives the tiniest smuggest smile seeing his prediction was correct. They learned Neocybex straight from Universal Basic.

“Oh I am sorry, did you never learn Praxian? I thought every Praxian learned it as their second language.” He carefully fans out his doorwings in a calculated brag, he had seen Sire do it several times when he made a good bet.

“{{ Pantera play nice! }}” Carrier calls from where she is sitting watching, she knows  _ exactly _ where Prowl learned that body language and is doing her best to snip everything he learned from his Sire in the bud. She won’t let that mech ruin her son’s life.

Prowl keeps his frame loose, not seeming to react to the call much except to shift his wings into a slightly more neutral stance.

The younglings huddle together muttering among themselves before finally turning back to Prowl.

“Okay you can play with us,  _ if _ you use  _ those _ to scare the glitched bitty!” One of the younglings comments, pointing to Prowl’s lightbar just barely peeking over his shoulder plates.

Prowl’s body language goes very still, dropping off as all his processor power goes into rerunning his assessment of the entire group. He’d never heard younglings use the bad words before, he’s suddenly very scared they will do far worse than throw snarky quips at him. He wants nothing to do with them, he never really wanted to be their friend but now he does not even want to be in this play group alongside them.

He backs away slowly, doorwings fanning out looking for an escape.

“What’s the matter, are you a robo-chicken? Think you’ll get in  _ trouble _ ? No one cares about the glitched bitty except his dumb creators.” The other youngling teases.

Prowl frowns a little before changing his plan of attack. Instead of backing away he charges forward using his lights and sirens to startle the group of younglings into scattering. Once he’s through the entire group he quickly turns with a skid to face them again, preparing to charge again when he’s suddenly scooped up by a familiar set of servos.

“Prowl! You know better than this!” Beacon scolds shifting Prowl in her servos to face her, giving him a firm look.

“They said one of the bad words, you said only bad people use those words.” Prowl fires back, glaring at his Carrier. She sighs in response, holding Prowl close as she moves away from the gathered mecha. Several other creators had charged into the play area in response to Prowl’s lights and sirens.

“{{ They are younglings my little Pantera, they do not know any better than what adults teach them. }}” She murmurs quietly, switching languages to limit the amount of looks she’ll get.

Unfortunately one of the adult Praxians actually  _ does _ know his frame-kin’s language and makes a disdainful noise.

“{{ So you’d side with those glitches that are a drain on society over your own frame-kin? }}” He snarks glaring at Beacon.

Beacon hugs Prowl close glaring right back at the mech.

“{{ Yes. Seeing as they are mecha just like any of us with strengths and weaknesses all the same! }}” She sneers at the mech, flaring her doorwings up and rattling them daring him to challenge her further. Even with a youngling in her arms she can put this mech on his aft in a sparkbeat.

The mech wisely backs off when he catches sight of the Praxian Hunter sigils on her doorwings, knowing better than to challenge a member of that sect. He picks up his youngling, one of the ones that had  _ started _ this fight, and storms off. Several other creators chose to do the same with their own younglings.

Beacon sighs shifting and scanning the area with a critical optic, noticing Tigertrack approaching with Red Alert in his arms. She shifts holding Prowl close, watching the mech warily. They had only met once before, and while he had been kind in that interaction she was not certain of his personality or motives yet.

“Hey. Nice to see you again.” Tigertrack smiles adjusting his grip on Red Alert who is watching Prowl and Beacon with rapt attention. He had heard what those Younglings and Prowl had said, his audials were very sensitive.

“You as well, it would seem our first play group day was a bust.” Beacon comments gently rubbing Prowl’s backplates.

“Yeah, those younglings are little parrotrons of their creators. Hopefully they figure out you don’t have to agree with everything your creator tells you. Red says Prowl didn’t much like them using the g-word.” Tigertrack comments, tilting his helm a little but otherwise not exactly asking a question.

“It’s a bad word.” Prowl mumbles into his Carrier’s neck cables. “Only bad people use it.”

“That’s right, sweetspark.” Tigertrack soothes focusing on the youngling briefly before returning his gaze to Beacon.

“Yes, we do not use that word in our family.” Beacon confirms, remembering the first time she saw Red Alert. Puzzling together why the pair is so interested in what she and Prowl believe.

Red Alert pats his Sire’s collar flaring mumbling softly into his audial when the older mech tilts his helm to listen.

“Red wants to know if Prowl would like to come over and play.” Tigertrack addresses the question at Beacon, since the younglings will first need both creator’s permission.

Beacon shifts looking down at Prowl, who hesitates but nods a little at the request. The carrier smiles nodding as well.

“That would be lovely.” She murmurs gesturing for Tiger to lead the way.


	4. Red Alert meets Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was planning out the adults in charge of the youngling muses I accidentally gave Red Alert and Inferno a really early connection. 
> 
> I added 2 oneshots today so don’t forget to check out the chapter before this!
> 
> Beta Reader: PastelAgender

Red Alert follows his Carrier’s pedes closely, looking around frowning a little at all the new adults in the meeting room. Carrier said the Wreckers were visiting, which he had been a part of for a while before moving here and deciding to join Sire’s Knight Sect. He has never seen most of these mecha before, except the nice mech with the weird flashy fins on his helm. He came to visit once before, this time a  _ huge _ red and white mech with medic symbols is with him.

Red Alert gives the huge medic a skeptical look, but he can feel Carrier’s field and he doesn’t seem upset by the mech’s presence. Carrier waves to the nice mech before turning and going in a different direction. Red scampers after his legs, only for Carrier to suddenly stop walking causing him to bump into his legs. He beeps in protest at the action, looking up curiously.

There’s an absolutely  **gigantic** red mech with a ladder on his back, he’s got a youngling perched on his shoulder who is equally red and has the start of a tiny ladder on his own back. Red tilts his helm as he cuddles into his Carrier’s legs wondering what is going on.

“Artfire! I did not expect you to come, and who is this little one?” Carrier asks, shaking the mech’s servo.

“Percy, it’s good to see ya! This is my bitty Inferno, Wheeljack told me you got a bitlet too now so I figured I’d come out since we are meeting on your new stomping grounds.” The mech rumbles, his voice deep but not booming.

“Oh that’s wonderful, is your partner here with you?” Perceptor questions doing a quick scan of the crowd around them.

“Oh… no Red Heat… didn’t survive the carrying.” Arfire’s voice quiets down a bit as he talks.

“I am so sorry, my condolences for your loss.” Perceptor murmurs.

“It’s alright, ya didn’t know. We ain’t talked in a century or two, not like I can fault ya for not knowing.” Artfire chuckles weakly letting Inferno down when he starts to shift looking ready to climb his way down on his own. “Why don’t we introduce the bitties. Maybe they can find a quiet corner to play in, I don’t think any of the stories the Wreckers got to tell are interesting for the littles.”

“Oh yes of course, Red Alert. Say hello to Artfire and Inferno.” Percy shifts to kneel petting Red Alert’s helm between his horns.

Red Alert optics the larger youngling pressing closer to his Carrier as Artfire set the young firetruck down in front of him. He’s absolutely massive, he must be much older.

“Hello...” he mumbles quietly, he just wants to go home. The nice mech can come visit them there but he doesn’t much like the rest of these mechs. They are unpredictable, he’s seen lots of them juggling grenades.

“Hello.” Inferno murmurs quietly, making an effort not to be too loud since he cannot do much about being very big.

“Hmmm If he’s going to be as tall as you Artfire he must only be about 5 or 6 vorns old right?” Percy comments looking up at his friend who had also knelt down, not that it did much to make him smaller.

Red Alert freezes staring first at Inferno then up at his Carrier incredulously.

“Oh yes he’s only 5 vorns, growing like quartz.” Artfire chuckles patting Inferno’s shoulder.

“Red is only a little younger, 4 vorns old. We’ll know next vorn for sure if he will be the same height as me or trend taller like his Sire.” Percy smiles gently nudging Red Alert’s back trying to get him to move forward and get to know Inferno

Red Alert blips his lights and sirens to make it clear how very much he does not want to do that. Perceptor grimaces at them going off relatively close to his helm.

“Red Alert. We talked about this. No lights and sirens directly into my faceplates.” Percy rumbles a warning growl at Red Alert, giving the youngling a scolding look.

Red Alert presses his plating down looking at the ground in reproach, beeping a soft apology in Basic.

“It is okay… Come on, at least give Inferno a chance.” Percy conjoles nudging the youngling forward again.

Red Alert grumbles but shuffles forward to meet the other youngling in the middle. Artfire passes a few toys down to the younglings as he and Percy herd them towards the wall where they are less likely to get stepped on.

After a few false starts and some fitful attempts at sharing the pair do manage to settle into a game together. Red Alert babbles happily to his Sire all about it when he comes to walk Percy and Red Alert home from the event.

“We’ll have to see about setting up more play dates then. Maybe Prowl would like to meet him too?” Tigertracks asks with a chuckle watching his youngling practically bounce the whole way home.


End file.
